"Christine, the part is yours."

I stared at M. Gabriel in astonishment. Our eyes connected across the span of the desk in his modest but neat office. He had requested my presence in his office during our lunch break and I had been fidgety ever since.

"Beg pardon?" I asked.

"Marguerite. I have selected you to sing the lead role in Faust." He explained in his usual no-nonsense tone. "It took some convincing on my part to have our managers agree with my decision; but they eventually conceded. We are facing a lack of talent in this company after the recent…unpleasantness regarding La Carlotta. I understand their objections given the circumstances, but we have to move on and try our best to work with what we have."

Gabriel, despite his often fussy demeanor, was intolerably good at being professional and frank. However, his vague description left much to be explained. My curiosity and my shock of his announcement collided into a volley of questions.

"I don't understand. Were they upset by your choice monsieur? I'm very grateful for this opportunity, but I don't wish to put your career in jeopardy. I know I'm still a novice." I protested.

He waved a hand dismissively, and what could have been the briefest hint of a smile cracked at the corner of his lips. "No. It's not your talent they have an issue with. While circumstances almost force me to cast you as Marguerite, given your youth, they aren't the only thing that influenced my final choice. It's not simply that you are in the right place at the right time, Mlle. Daae. Your voice in simply ideal for the role." He rolled a pen between his fingers. "No, they were reluctant because of certain…" He glanced up at me again and a truly nervous look flashed over his eyes. "Mlle. Daae, surely you've heard of the Opera Ghost?"

I had worn gloves throughout rehearsal to keep Erik's ring concealed. I found myself looking down at my hands and forced my eyes back up to meet M. Gabriel's.

"I'm sure you have and hopefully you have been sensible enough to dismiss them for the silly rumors they are. It doesn't make sense that our managers should operate their business based on the superstitions of ballet girls and spooked employees. Apparently there is much more to this peculiar situation. The managers believe this ghost is a real person and they have involved the law in discovering his identity. He's already made threats against the managers and the artists, and they strongly believe…" he paused and stopped rolling the pen. "That this individual may have been the person responsible for Madame Carlotta's untimely death." He finished in a harsh whisper.

He set his pen down, and the small noise of it striking the desk was enough to command my full attention. "What you also may not know is that this ghost has been sending correspondences to members of staff including myself in regards to certain casting arrangements." Our eyes locked. "Some of them I'm afraid mentioned you and Changy, explicitly."

I was aware of this because Camille had already managed to slip a note to the chorus master from the Opera Ghost right out of his office. My concern was how many other notes had been "delivered" on my behalf.

"M. Moncharmin is become quite disturbed by this information and was hesitant to cast either of you. He was concerned mainly about your safety," He paused to assure me, "while M. Richard is desperate to keep the opera going so we don't lose money or patrons. And with no word from Mlle. de Changy, you were the natural choice for this part." He tried to smile at me in a gesture of comfort. "I'm sorry, that was a terribly long explanation." He stood up. His fingers that had been fidgeting stopped and he was once again the professional. "I would like to have you come one hour early before rehearsals to practice your lines. I have been instructed that we need to have this production ready in four weeks' time. You'll need to be prepared."

"Yes sir." I nodded swiftly. He stood to open the door for me. I caught his eye once more and smiled politely. "And thank you." I added.

He nodded in kind. Then I noticed his eyebrows furrow and the door stopped its outward motion. "Mlle. Daae." He murmured. "I haven't made a casting announcement yet. I don't intend to make my choices known until next week…so I would appreciate it greatly if you didn't repeat anything that was said in this office. Understood?"

"Of course."


I made great effort to be punctual to my lessons each morning. Erik, in turn, took great care to see that I was fed, well rested, and given a chance to warm up before I attended rehearsals. We did sing and practice together in the evening, but not for long. Erik was careful in curbing his manic obsession for music. We sang only briefly before he would become overwhelmed with concern about the state of my voice.

The week passed quickly, and every day I stopped in my dressing room and made an effort to clean it. I returned the costumes, disposed of the flowers, and dusted every corner. Meanwhile I was careful to check every place Raoul might have slipped another correspondence. Sadly I was disappointed to find none and became suspicious of how Raoul had managed to leave the letter in the dressing room in the first place.

Always the thoughts of the unknown plagued me.

So my inner alarm was raised when I returned to the dressing room after the final rehearsal for the week to find it was unlocked. The muffled sound of a melodic voice beckoned me from the other side. I shook away my initial shock to focus on the sound and soon recognized it as the Jewel Song from the third act. I opened the door.

I focused on the wave of pale blond hair falling across the woman's back as she sang out sweetly. Her hands moved like birds in fluid flight about her body, one hand clutching a small prop mirror while the other gestured to a string of large pearls about her neck. I was frozen where I stood, momentarily enraptured by the beautiful song. Then the voice grew edgy and in that moment my eyes finally rested on the mirror where the woman's face reflected back at me.

"Genny…."

Genny smiled as her name escaped my lips and I returned it. Only seconds later did my emotions shift, and instead of feeling joy upon my friend's return, I only felt terror. On her playful smiling face I could see the clear cold look in her eyes as she had proudly confessed to Carlotta's murder. She set down the mirror and gestured with her long fingers for me to come towards her.

I only managed to take a few steps forward before my uncertainty held me back. A hurt expression crossed her face. "I'm disappointed to see this from you Christine. Is this any way to greet your friend?" she asked.

I was surprised by the tone of my voice when I finally answered. "What did you expect? The last time I saw you, I thought you had gone mad." I stated.

Her frown deepened. "I'm not sure how you and my brother came to that conclusion, Christine. I'm perfectly all right, but I have been terribly vexed about what has been happening at the opera while I've been away." She took a seat at the table and I cautiously took a seat in the chair next to her, my feet poised to launch myself up at a moment's notice. "My brothers have been hounding me for the past few weeks to leave Paris. It's become quite annoying." she laughed. "They even started bringing suitors to the house, as if I were a sixteen year old girl they wanted to marry off." Her laugh grew, sounding more sinister with the rising of its pitch. "Men can be so incorrigible sometimes, but they are men and they have a power. Even though they should know by now that I am a woman who decides my own destiny." I watched as her hand that had been toying with the folds of the table cloth snaked its way towards mine. "So I snuck out of the house this morning to return here. I told my fool brothers I was going to call on one of the foppish baboons they had presented to me, but I came here to claim what is rightfully mine." At those words, Genny's hand snapped out to grab mine and squeezed tight.

I jerked back out of her grip, toppling the chair and clumsily rising to my feet with an uneasy jerk. Genny's eyes widened in surprise. "Why Christine...are you afraid of me?"

"You tell me. I saw you and Carlotta's corpse, and now you're here gloating about it." I challenged.

Genny gave an indifferent shrug. "I'm not here to gloat. I'm here to claim my destiny. However I do have to inform you that unfortunately you will not be singing Marguerite. I will." My mouth dropped a little and Genny met this action with an unexpected look of pity. "Oh, please don't be hurt Christine. I wouldn't want to hurt you, but you see I've worked too hard for this to simply give it away." She reached out with pleading arms, and in that moment I saw my true friend return, not this callous woman. However, I did not accept her embrace as she had hoped, and her features darkened once more.

"I will sing Marguerite! I was promised it!" she snarled. "But not you Christine. No. In fact, a few months ago you were picking at threads and pinning hems. So it would be unthinkable that you would be capable of performing such a role."

Despite my efforts, I was starting to cry. Genny would never say such a thing like that to me. She had been a true friend despite our difference in ranks. This was not the same woman who had laughed with me and helped push racks of costumes through the corridors. She was not the girl who had shown such kindness to every member of the company. A fear I had never acknowledged had come to pass. She had changed and I dreaded that I would never see her again as she once was.

My hands reached up reflexively to wipe at my face as my silent defiance was breaking. Genny seemed unmoved as she glared at me.

"Do you not think I deserve this role, Christine?" she asked. "I figured in my absence you would be the obvious choice, because we both know you had help getting here." She glanced over her shoulder at the mirror then back towards me. "Both from me and from him."

My back stiffened in protest and my hands clenched into tight fists. Genny smiled knowingly. The thoughts of the unknown bombarded me at her statement. How much did she know about Erik? It was information that she was clearly ready to use to her advantage.

"Then surely you know by now that he is no angel." I whispered. "Despite your over-confidence, you have to admit you have been deceived…we both have."

Her face remained perfectly still, not even flinching at my comment. "Yes, he has favored you. It is no doubt that he holds you in such high affection that you have risen so high in such a short time. I told you long ago you could be a star like me, but you didn't listen. You turned to him, when you already had the support of your friends. You gave up our friendship for him. If you are upset by your situation, you have no one to blame but yourself."

Her punishing words ran a bitter truth in my ear. I had turned to Erik, a stranger, when I already had caring friends. I had become so involved in the strange promise of musical glory and in turn the restoration of my contentment, that I had purposely avoided interactions with my friends. I too often used the excuse of work so I could sneak away to that other world; a world devoted to music and joy. I was blinded. I had been deceived. Just like Genny.

"Genny….this isn't what you think." I stammered.

"I'm not a fool Christine! I know everything that is going on between you." She shot back.

A sudden rage filled me and I slammed my hand against a nearby armoire. The bolt of noise and energy made us both jump in surprise. "You know nothing!" The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. "You understand nothing." I was shaking from my outburst, but I continued, determined to make my friend find her senses. "You think you know, because you believe everything you've been told. You believed he was an angel as well. Can you now say you still believe that?"

"He loves you?" It was barely a question that she shouted back at me.

I shut my eyes. That was the terrible part of this whole affair. "Yes."

"Then that is all I need to know. That is all that matters!" she pointed an accusing finger at me. "Do not speak to me as if I were a child, Christine Daae! Don't attempt to threaten me, because we both know how powerless you truly are. That is why you continued to devote yourself to him. He loves you, and because of that he will give you anything you ask, but this is something you cannot have." Her fingers planted themselves on the back of the dainty white wood chair and curled about it tightly as if she wanted to break it. "I will sing Marguerite! I will get what is mine; what I have worked for!" Her voice had gone from a rising shriek to a slow and calculated tone. I feared for a second it was not the madness in her mind that was causing her to speak. Perhaps it was not shock or illness that caused this sudden change. Perhaps it was all planned.

The light of hope that I could restore my friend to reason was starting to fade, yet I was determined not to give up. I had already made the decision to leave Erik and escape Paris. I couldn't do it alone. I needed help and I was determined to rescue Genny from Erik's influence as well as myself.

"Genny, if only you could understand." I pleaded. "I don't want to sing Marguerite. I don't want any of this. The Phantom does and I'm only going along with what he wants to keep you safe. I don't think you realize the danger we are all in if I don't do as he asks. I've only stayed with him because I'm trying to protect you." I walked to her side and put my hands over hers. To my great relief, I felt her fingers relax their iron grip on the chair. Her downcast eyes looked up at me. "He'll…." A lump formed in my throat and caused me to pause, choking on my words. "He'll kill you...he'll destroy anyone in his way. I know it." I wasn't sure that Erik would keep his promise to me, if his greatest artistic achievement was now threatened.

Her eyes closed and her brow furrowed. "A very clever excuse Christine, but forgive me if I don't believe you. I think are loyal to him because you want to be. You aren't truly so helpless against him. No, I know that he has been the other man all along. The one you spurned my brother for." The corner of her mouth rose in a smile. "Now wouldn't he be interested in learning about where you true affections lie?" Her hand pushed mine away. "Perhaps he wouldn't be so eager to elope with you after all."

My face flushed red with shock. My anxiety started to rise. What had Raoul told his sister in these past few weeks? What had she been left to assume?

"Go ahead and tell him. Raoul already knows. He risked so much to come to me. That is why he hasn't wanted you to come back to the opera. He trying to protect you; protect us both!" Desperate tears leaked out from my eyes, beyond my control. "He's your brother. If you won't listen to me, then please listen to him." I pleaded.

I could detect a small sense of defeat in Genny's face. She was gloating about devolving my terrible secret to Raoul in hopes of breaking his heart. All so she could get what she wanted. She turned to the vanity table that I had spent tidying during the week, and like a fickle child, she swept her hand across the top, slowly causing combs, bottles and trinkets to fall to the floor. I braced myself.

"Yes, but I'm sure there are others who would be thrilled to know." Her voice rose over the clatter of falling objects. "Know that the only reason you are singing Marguerite is because Carlotta is dead and you have had personal help from the Opera Ghost." We looked at each other through the mirror. A devious smile was distorting her lovely face.

"Yes because you killed her!" I shouted and was shocked at the volume of my own voice. Genny faced me, her brown eyes glaring at me. She took one of the glass bottles that had escaped her earlier destruction and lifted it high in the air. Without taking her gaze from me, she let go and the glass shattered loudly on the floor.

When she finally spoke again, her tone was dripping with annoyance and distain. "Christine, you will not be singing Marguerite in Faust. I do not wish to terminate our friendship or destroy your happiness. But I will have what is mine. What I have worked for. You will not take it from me. So you will do me this favor and things can be as they were before. Keep my secrets and I'll keep yours. It would serve you well to keep us both happy."

I did not need to ask who she was referring to. I knew. She walked past me and it took all my determination not to raise my hand to try and stop her, but now all hope of trying to restore my friend seemed lost. I stood there, disgusted with myself as she pushed passed me towards the door. I lifted my head to look at her just barely and called out.

"Is that all?"

Genny leaned against the door frame, her head cocked backward. A playful smile spread over her face. It was familiar feature of hers that indicated her lively nature and was often the precursor of her witty speech. I knew this time, beneath that smile there were no charming words waiting for me.

"Yes, and stay away from my brother."


My feet carried me back through the passage by the Rue Scribe at a pace that made them appear as if they were made of lead. I made frequent stops along the way, grasping at the damp walls and shutting my eyes tightly. As if that could make everything go away. Internally, I was screaming.

I would have to tell Erik that I couldn't sing Marguerite and it would infuriate him. I wasn't sure if he would ever keep his promise entirely, despite his efforts so far. I also still dreaded that he knew what I was planning all along, and only acting unaware.

My sluggish entrance through the door naturally aroused his concern.

"Christine, you look exhausted." He stated, reaching out to offer me his arm. I took it.

"I'm fine really." I lied. His worried gaze did not alter. I thought how an onlooker would view us. Erik, treating me with the utmost kindness; and I was distancing myself. It would appear very strange, but I knew beneath his kind actions, he was a man capable of un-measureable anger.

"Would you like supper now?" I shook my head. "Well then perhaps we can have you sing." He suggested with a smile. "You know how much I look forward to hearing you sing when you return home." I didn't answer and in my silence Erik led me to the piano without protest. He spread his music out while I only glanced down at the folio of my music on the piano top without interest. "You shall sing the Jewel Song." He stated while lightly plunking out the opening measures.

"I can't." I replied.

He cocked his head. "Yes you can. If you claim to be so alert, we can continue training your voice. It must be perfect for this role." I could hear a quiet angry tone start, and then rise in his voice.

"No! I can't!" I protested. He jumped to his feet with lighting speed but I put my hands up in front of me to stop him. "I can't sing Marguerite. I'm sorry." I struggled to find enough volume to give power to my refusal. "Genevieve has come back to the opera. She wants the role, and I….can't stop her." I only needed a quick look from Erik to inform me that he knew I was lying. "I don't want to stop her. She knows about us. I don't want to risk it anymore. Please…" My legs wanted to collapse underneath me from my mental exhaustion, but I knew my battle was just beginning.

Erik pressed his hands on top of the piano; his long limbs locked in stiff intensity. He let several breaths escape his still frame before speaking, in an attempt to control his temper. "May I ask why you lack conviction in this matter, Christine? Why you would so easily give up your dream?"

I should have explained that I wasn't giving up, not the way he saw it, but that I was afraid. I was frightened of what could happen, and that worry was driving me to the point of exhaustion. But I didn't. Instead I opened my foolish mouth and blurted out the first insult that had been poised on my tongue.

"It's not my dream. It's never been my dream. It's yours! It's what you have wanted all along." I cried. I wouldn't have thought it possible for Erik's posture to become more rigid, but to my disbelief his body became even tenser.

He turned his face to me, and I was taken aback to see a smile on it. I clasped my hands watching him, feeling my pulse race under my fingers as I awaited his reply. "Christine, I don't think you understand what opportunity you are throwing away. Your voice is incredible and more importantly, it is capable of giving you power. Power that you could never imagine." He must have guessed my confusion from my blank stare, so he continued. "The only other option out there for women of your stature is a life condemned to hard work and pitiful wages, or worse you could find yourself shackled to a loveless husband who treats you like you are lower than dirt." He spat out the last words. "Is that what you want from life? If you become a successful singer, you would attain the power of a prima donna. The ability to choose your own shows, to obtain every leading role, to command a salary that most people could only dream of. You could have all this, just from the beauty of your voice. You could have freedom and power." He started to move closer and even though his words had grown in intensity, the volume of his voice had gone softer. One hand reached up to caress my face, but hesitantly pulled aside, just grazing my hair as it passed. "That is all I want for you. I would do anything to give you the freedom and respect you deserve."

I suppose my ignorance of the opera world was why I hadn't considered this before. That the desire to succeed only for money, power and fame was more powerful than the love of music. Was that the reason behind Genny's dramatic change over the past few months? It was causing her to turn against her brothers, who she adored. Logically it made sense. Otherwise Genny would be relegated to the expectations of an aristocratic woman; to be married off and earn her family more wealth and connections.

With no connection and no money, I would never be able to achieve independence, except through music. However that had never been a goal of mine, it hadn't even crossed my mind.

"But I don't want fame or power…" I whispered. "I never have." How could Erik desire such a position for me and yet still wanted me to be his wife? It made no sense. I brushed my hand past his. "I'm sorry, Erik. I don't think I can be that person…the woman you want me to be."

I could see his breath catch in his throat as he suppressed a sigh. "Christine Daae, you are an extraordinary woman. I only wish you could see that for yourself." He grasped my hand, running a finger against the soft flesh of my palm; a pleasurable caress. "And I will love you no matter what you choose"

My hand entrapped in his was brought to his lip, where he rewarded me with a soft kiss upon my knuckles. "Sing the Jewel Song for me." he intoned.

"I can't..."

In a flash, I felt his soft grip under my palm transform into a cold trap as his bony fingers squeezed hard against mine. He flicked his hand with enough force to pull me forward a few steps. I nodded in agreement, terrified to refuse. Erik said he would love me no matter what I chose, as long as I chose him.

He seated himself at the piano and started the opening lines. My voice wavered on the opening note, not because of the trill. The note shook and trembled and I was certain Erik would stop playing in disapproval. He kept on so I continued, feeling no passion as I sung the empty vain words of Margurite.

"No, no this is not you! No, I see a princess of a story, sweetly smiling back at me!"

I wasn't smiling and then I did notice Erik was focusing on me. His genius for music was allowing him to fix his gaze on my person as his fingers carried on with the accompaniment from memory. I tensed and prayed my tears wouldn't start, for it would surely arouse his suspicion. Giving it my best effort, I spread a large grin over my face and continued into the second phase of the song. I watched the slight motion of the lids of Erik's eyes lower as his gaze started to soften.

"How happy I would be if he could look at me!"

Somehow I made it through the ascending staff, controlling the high notes without having my voice waver again, all while keeping my horribly false smile on my face. The song finally came to an end, and I pretended to be unaffected, even though inside I wanted to scream. I closed the folio and set it on the top of the instrument's polished surface.

Erik quickly came around the piano and behind me. His hand drifted to my stomach, pressing the length of his fingers across the bodice of my dress. I suppressed a gasp and I saw his thumb was stretched far enough to touch the bottom of my breast. I heard his breath in my hair, penetrating through the strands to caress the flesh of my ears.

I glanced at the ring on my finger. I had promised Erik I would be his wife. That would mean giving myself to him, even in terms of those primitive desires. I felt trapped and terrified to turn away. I waited for his action and it was my reaction that I dreaded most.

His hand reached to touch my face. I saw it out of the corner of my eye falling towards me, but he hesitated and let it fall to my neck. His fingers traced the skin on the side of my neck. He was admiring the instrument he had perfected; his creation, and in that moment I was struck by a piercing doubt. Could Erik only love me for my voice?

And would his compassion fade if I denied him it?


AN: I'm so SORRY for the lack of updates. More chapters are coming soon. I'm desperately trying to finish the rest of the story during Nanowrimo and I already have about 20K words, so more new chapters!

Many thanks to all my lovely betas and my wonderful readers and followers.